As my tester steps back, so does Arienna’s. Then the rest of the nobles are served, and we begin to eat. I converse with those around me, gathering their favour and continued support. Warress Dumbass –Dumauswants assurances that the peace treaty won’t impact her profits given she supplies our armies with combat wands. She has factories all across Gaera, bringing in more money than she knows what to do with, and yet, she’s still worried about the small amount she will lose from us. If corporate tax wasn’t at ninety percent, I wouldn’t be able to resist stabbing her in her greedy face.
She’s constantly tying up our courts for her personal gain, wasting our taxes by trying to reduce current worker condition laws. She benefits hugely from the trade deals we have with other kingdoms – something that commoners do not benefit from much at all on a personal level, and yet, she still has the eggs to claim she’s self-made. That is an entire history of progression she’s dismissing, and frankly, she just pisses me off.
Smiling at her as I think about splitting her from neck to navel, I assure her that any dips in her profits will be topped up by the Royal Treasury for the first year after each treaty is signed. When she haggles for longer, I bite my tongue and make a mental note to check on her factories. Given how defensive she turned once my queen suggested visiting them, I hope I find something to hang the bitch.
When the soup bowls are cleared away and plates of Harean snake are placed down as the next course, I turn my attention to Commandress Bolaire. Tomorrow, she’s flying south to helpfight against the Alzans. They’ve been pushing into our territory these past three weeks, thinking they’ve been forcing us back. In truth, I ordered our army to lure them all the way back to Evrytre. There, we will surround them on all sides and slaughter them without mercy. We’ve lost a lot of women already though, so if this plan falls through…
At least they’ll vote me off the throne.
“How is your new bow?” I ask Bolaire. I gave it to her six weeks ago when I made her a commandress. It has been spelled to not need a quiver, forming the perfect arrow out of thin air (though really, the magic pulls it from a tree the witch marked with her spell).
Originally one of sixteen children, Bolaire has lost more family than anyone I know. Like her mother, she has given birth to all her children (nine so far; only three still alive) on the battlefield. The last one was born four months ago, and she did it while fighting off five Okahi so her wounded women could get to safety.
When we recovered the land we were chased from, we didn’t expect to find her alive. We sure as hel didn’t expect her to be nursing a newborn. And wemost definitely didn’t fucking expect her to be stabbing her broken sword into the shimmery turquoise exoskeleton of yet another Okahi at the same time.
She wanted to rejoin us in pushing the beetle-like army back even further, but I ordered her home. Then gifted her a magical bow, along with the title of commandress.
A confliction of emotions pass her face. “I keep reaching for an arrow, so end up nocking two.”
“Try not taking a quiver,” Commandress Lavayo teases from beside her. She scoops up a forkful of fried snake meat and vegetables.
“Just because my bow no longer requires one,” Bolaire says, “doesn’t mean I shouldn’t carry extra ammunition for those around me.”
Lavayo waves her hand. “Archers have swords to use once their quivers run dry. It’d be better to carry a backpack of supplies.”
“Arrows trump swords when fighting the Alzans. They’re faster than us, so it’s better if we kill them before they reach us. Plus, a hail of arrows can pin their tails to the ground so we can go in for the kill.”
A burst of laughter, loud and genuine, pulls my attention to the other end of the table. My eyes narrow as Arienna laughs at something Fahy said. The woman is smart and funny, and she has her fucking hand on my queen’s arm. Stabbing at my plate, I skewer a piece of snake.
Arienna’s eyes are lit up – so carefree and pure and so different to the calculated emotions of everyone else here. She pulls her arm out from under Fahy’s hand so she can reach for her glass of juice. She drinks it as she smiles. My eyes lift to Jace behind her. He smirks at me. I glare at him for not having killed Fahy already.
My gaze dropping back to my wife, I still when I see her looking at me. Her smile grows more radiant – as if that’s even fucking possible.
A wicked gleam in her eyes, she licks her lips nice and slow.
My cock hardens.
Fahy practically drools beside her, and I decide here and now that she is getting shipped off to the front lines first thing tomorrow – Fuck that. Tonight.
Ignoring her fork and the woman beside her, my queen dips two fingers into the sauce on her plate and then licks them clean. A smile curling my lips, I raise my hand and hold up two fingers. Then a third.
You’ve just earned yourself another punishment.
Emboldened by the distance between us, she mimics my gesture. Raising her hand to her mouth, my naughty queen flicks her tongue between the two Vs of her fingers.
I hold up five, and she drops her hand quickly. Her head swings back to Fahy. Her glass of juice shakes as she places it on the table. Seeing that, knowing that I’m the only one who makes her nervous, the knot of jealousy in my stomach eases.
Turning back to the women around me, I partake again in the conversation. But the only words I really hear are those three words she said to me.
Better than I love you.
“We’re monopolists, remember?”
When dessert is brought out an hour later, my tester once again steps forwards. He cuts off a small bit of the honey-glazed yam, then brings it to his lips. As he chews, I look towards the middle of the table. The twelve Court members are all seated together, and I take note of who’s conversing with who.
Petre might be a snake, but her focus at the meeting was in getting Arienna up-to-speed on the new law rather than dismissing her as a future puppet. Either Coo or Tanya are the ones I suspect the most. Tanya’s last attempt on my life was only a few days ago, and she much prefers to get other people to do her dirty work for her – like she did when she sent her nieces to try to kill me on my wedding day. Coo, however, isn’t this bold. I’ve never traced a single attack back to her. Then again, I never threatened her life like I’m doing now with this new law.
At the sudden cough on my left, my gaze breaks away from the Dragons of Kholar. My tester, a man – boy, really, whacks at his chest, his grey eyes wide. Beside him, the chef’s mouth fallsopen; turning, he tries to flee, but Fabia grabs him and whips out her knife. Without any hesitation, she stabs him in the chest. Rule one of the Royal Guard: strike first, resurrect if necessary.
